Wesley's Heart

***DISCLAIMER: All people and places in this book are fictional. Any similarities to real-life people or places are purely coincidental.***

Prologue

What's up, Screw Ball?

Does anyone even call you that anymore? It’s been a while, huh? It’s been a while since you have heard from me, for sure. Maybe a while since you even thought about me?

My little girl is with you now, and you found this letter in her jacket pocket. You’re wondering why she won’t speak even though she is staring directly into your eyes (I know she is. She never took her eyes off them whenever I showed her your picture). You’re wondering if she is even hearing you or if she is shy or in shock because of the situation. You can stop wondering; she is never going to answer you, her hearing is fine, and she’s not in shock.

She has Autism. And her name is Ariel; she’s five.

She’s my daughter with Caroline. You heard about her, I’m sure. Quite the scandal in our tired town. The older woman without any local connections messing around with a much younger guy, both recovering drug addicts. And me a manically depressed alcoholic to boot. My parents were appalled and embarrassed by me… again, and once Caroline and I decided we wanted to make a go at raising our baby together, they washed their hands of me. They have never even met their granddaughter and have no desire to.

I tried to reach out to them when she was born, sent them a birth announcement and everything, because isn’t that what good sons do? I was shocked when I got a return letter from them, but I shouldn’t have been. They just sent the announcement back. In its original envelope. It had been opened, so I know they read it. They looked at the picture of her perfect little face and didn’t make one comment.

Like I said, she’s five now, and they know where to find me, so…

Let me get to the point. Caroline is gone. She had one bad day, her old dealer was all too eager to sell, and she got a bad dose of Fentanyl. I couldn’t get a hold of her during our normal phone call during my lunch break, and when she still didn’t answer the phone an hour later, I had to find her. I just walked off my job and ran home. I knew something was wrong; she always answered the phone, always. I found her dead on our bedroom floor.

Since then, my life has gone to crap. I got fired for walking off the job. It did not cover the bills but now I have no income. I’m still grieving Caroline, and I know you understand how unbearable it is. I know we looked like a strange couple and people judged us, but I loved her, man. She was the only one I had, the only one that really saw me. The only one who really cared about what happened to me. The urges for alcohol and drugs –any drugs at this point—are coming stronger and stronger every day. I’ve messed up a few times. The depression is bad again. Just knowing that I’m awake in the morning overwhelms me before I even open my eyes. The voices are new. I’m scared of them, like really scared. They are relentless, taunting me all the time. I’m afraid of what they will make me do. Life hurts. Everything hurts so bad.

I have tried to get an appointment with my psychiatrist’s office, but no one can see me for six weeks. They just tell me to go to the emergency room, but I won’t. I have been down that road and they always send me back home to wait for the outpatient appointment. And if by some miracle I was admitted to the hospital, that would leave Ariel all alone. They would put her in foster care, and I am so messed up, I don’t think I would ever get her back. Plus, I would never know if she was in a good home or a bad one. I cannot live with that. Because she deserves the absolute best. She’s the only good I made from my life.

No matter how it looks now, I love her with all my heart. Love her enough to get her a better life than I am giving her. Caroline and I were not always our best selves for her, but we loved her with everything we had and tried our best. Right now, my best is to ask you for this one huge favor: take her. Take her and give her everything I could never dream to.

Yes, it has been a while, but we were best friends once. I know you; you’re still the best guy I know, and somehow, you made it. Somehow you managed to not make a mess of your life and show everyone that a small-town boy could make it big—or in your case, bigger. You will be a better father to her than I could ever hope to be.

If you can’t take her, I understand. Please find good parents for her, people to whom you would trust your own life. Not your parents; I already thought of them, and they already did their time practically raising us and the whole baseball team every season. And whatever you do, do not let my family take her away when they hear the news (you know they’ll make the appropriate media appearances and play the grieving family to the hilt). I refuse to give them my kid to ruin.

Everything you need is in her backpack: guardianship papers, birth certificate, medical records, school files, et cetera. (Caroline’s and my sponsors suggested it was best to always keep this kind of thing in order in case of emergencies). You’ll find my truck in the west parking lot. It’s blue with a “Go, Cougars” bumper sticker on the tailgate. Her suitcase with all her belongings is in there.

I have one more favor to ask: forgive me. I hope I haven’t screwed up your life too badly. Screwing up is the only thing I’m good at (so how come you’re the one who got that nickname, huh?). Tell my baby girl I love her very much…even though I haven’t been good at showing it.

Erik